Execution
by Titan5
Summary: John is unusually troubled by the execution style murder of one of his teams.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I still don't own them, but if I did, I sure wouldn't have cancelled them. Even I'm smarter than that.

**Warning: **Although not really graphic, this includes some detailed descriptions of an execution-like murder that some people may find disturbing.

**Execution - Chapter 1**

By Titan5

Teyla came to an abrupt halt when John's fist jerked up. Following his lead, they all crouched down and peered through the trees to the small clearing ahead. Lt. Baker's team was now almost two hours overdue and they had not answered any of the radio calls designed to obtain information about their current situation. The four man team had accompanied two scientists to the Ancient outpost that the locals had agreed the Lanteans could study. Arriving early that morning, they had missed their scheduled return and their radio silence gave everyone pause for worry.

John motioned for Ronon to go around back and for Teyla and Rodney to move to either side of the building. The Colonel made for the front door as they went to their respective assignments, all moving quickly and silently. As John reached the door, Ronon rounded the building shaking his head. Apparently there was no back door, so the large Satedan joined John, the two of them moving quickly through the door. Teyla and Rodney moved in right behind them, stopping two steps from the entrance to stare in horror.

Six bodies lay on the floor in pools of blood, bags tied over their heads and hand bound behind their back. It took only moments to figure out what had transpired. They had been lined up and made to kneel on the floor and then had been systematically shot through the head. Teyla was staring so intently at the grisly scene before her that she was caught off guard when John rushed past her, bumping her shoulder quite forcefully and spinning her partially around.

"John?" she said as she turned to follow him out. She had a vague impression of his face being completely drained of all color. Stepping outside into the sunlight that contradicted the carnage inside, she quickly found John, standing bent over in the tall grass to the side of the small path, heaving his lunch into the foliage. Although she sympathized with his reaction, she was also surprised. The senseless killings were certainly horrifying on a variety of levels, but it wasn't the first time they had encountered senseless and horrible deaths. She had never seen her team leader this disturbed by death before.

She felt more than heard Ronon and Rodney come up behind her.

"What's going on?" asked Ronon.

"Hel-lo, have you _been_ in there?" asked Rodney, making a slight strangling sound as he pushed back his own nausea.

A low rumble preceded Ronon's response. "He's seen as bad before. We all have. This is personal."

Teyla remained silent, but she agreed. Something about this _was_ personal. They watched John straighten and then stagger a few steps before getting his balance in line. He spit and then wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. Grabbing her canteen, Teyla met him partway and handed it to him. With a small nod, he washed his mouth out a couple of times before taking a few drinks and handing it back.

"Thanks." His face was almost rigid, the mask of indifference firmly in place as he strolled past her as if he hadn't just dry heaved until she was afraid he'd pass out from lack of oxygen. He purposely walked back into the building and stood staring at the bodies. Rodney and Ronon glanced at her and then each other, shrugging their shoulders before following John into the Ancient structure.

Teyla chose to study the room instead of John's blank face as he stared down at the bodies. Consoles lined one side of the room, but they had been gutted and smashed. Rodney inspected them for a moment before sighing and turning to face his team. "This was done recently, as in very recently. I'm betting our killers are responsible." The scientist was keeping his eyes on his teammates and away from the death on the floor.

Transfixed, they all watched as John knelt by the first body. He carefully loosened the bag's drawstring, pulled tight around the neck but not tied, and eased the bag off the first victim's head. "Keasler," he mumbled with a shake of his head. He placed two fingers on the man's bloody neck to check for a pulse, even though they all knew from the condition of the head what the results would be. When he pulled his hand back, it was shaking slightly. Silently the pilot moved body to body, gently removing the bags and tossing them in the corner.

When he was done, John stood and stared down at his bloody hands, rubbing his first finger and thumb together as if fascinated by the blood. "The blood is still a little tacky in places, so it hasn't been a long time. And the bodies haven't had time to cool off very much." Suddenly rubbing his hands on the sides of his pants, John walked a full circuit around the bodies, as if looking for something and not finding it. Ronon frowned at Teyla and then walked over to stand beside the pilot.

"What's up? Something's got you spooked."

John stood painfully still for a moment before sighing and rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just a really bad way to die," he said softly, his voice wavering almost imperceptibly. Jerking his head up as if he'd just realized other people were in the room, John turned to his team. "I need you to keep watch, make sure no one comes in here. Be careful, but we don't know what the killers were here for, so they could return. You might scout around for something that will tell us who did this, but don't leave the area just yet. We'll check in the village later."

"What are you going to be doing?" asked Rodney.

"Getting some help moving our people home," he said. His voice was lower and huskier than usual, a sign to those that knew him that he was barely holding his emotions at bay. "I'll be back as soon as I can, but it shouldn't be more than an hour or so."

Teyla's eyes widened. "Are you sure you can get back so quickly. It took us forty minutes to walk."

"I'm having Lorne bring a jumper so we don't have to carry . . . " His eyes strayed to the bodies and he bit his lower lip so hard she was surprised it didn't bleed. Clearing his throat, he averted his eyes back to his team. "We don't want to have to carry them all the way to the gate."

"But there isn't enough room," Rodney complained. "That clearing is barely as wide as the jumper."

"Just because you couldn't land a jumper out there doesn't mean I can't," John snapped. "I'm actually a pilot, remember? Stay here and . . . just don't let anything else happen to them." Without waiting for comments or criticism of his plan, John whirled around and was gone.

"What was that?" asked Rodney, waving at where John had just been standing.

"Something is wrong," said Teyla.

Rodney let out a loud sigh. "I assume you mean something more than six dead bodies lying in a blood heap on the floor, six people that Colonel I-must-protect-everyone undoubtedly feels responsible for."

"Did he know any of them?" asked Ronon.

"Well of course he knew them," said Rodney, biting sarcasm having returned to his voice. "Four of them were soldiers under his command. And he just spouted their names off while he was . . . when he took the bags off their heads."

"I think Ronon means on a personal level, like friends," explained Teyla, wondering how Rodney could be so dense sometimes.

"Oh, uh, not that I know about." Rodney at least looked a bit disturbed that he hadn't caught on sooner. His expression slowly changed from annoyance to worry as he looked at the open door. "I just . . . I can't figure out what's got him so . . . rattled. I swear, for a moment right before he bolted, he looked afraid. And you hardly ever see John Sheppard afraid."

"Maybe he's seen this kind of death before. Maybe then it _was_ someone he knew," offered Ronon.

Rodney snapped his fingers. "I'll bet that's it. I know he served several tours in the Middle East and lost some friends over there. Those people are just vicious enough to do something like this." The physicist suddenly straightened. "Oh, God, you don't think he'll start having flashbacks on the way to the gate and end up getting caught by whoever did this, do you? What if they come back and there's no backup coming because Sheppard freaked out on the way to the gate, but we don't know that so we think –"

"Rodney!" Teyla barked. "You must calm down. We are fine. John will be fine. Perhaps we should occupy ourselves doing what he suggested and look for some sign of who is responsible."

Rodney stared at her for a few moments and then swallowed a few times as he brought himself under control. Teyla had seen the scenario many times before and wasn't surprised when his usual, sarcastic disposition fell into place. "Yes, well, _perhaps_ we should." He glanced around and then walked over to a laptop lying face down on the floor. "I'll see if I can figure out what they were doing when they were killed and if they had found anything of value. That might help determine if they were looking for technology to steal or if they were just here to destroy it."

Nodding, Teyla shifted her eyes to Ronon. With a slight nod, he joined her in searching the room for anything that might point to the identity of the killers or tip them off as to what was bothering John.

oOo

The jumper arrived one hour later, almost to the minute. Ronon, Rodney, and Teyla were all outside, breathing in air that didn't smell of blood and death. Rodney discovered that the images were branded into his brain, however, so that no matter how much he concentrated on the blue sky above or the varied shades of greenery that surrounded the clearing, he still saw red. Watching the jumper carefully land in a space that seemed way too small was a welcome distraction.

Getting to his feet, Rodney watched the hatch drop slowly to the ground and long-faced marines file out into the tall grass. Lorne and Sheppard were the last ones out, with the Colonel directing the four soldiers holding body bags to the Ancient facility. Rodney noticed that Lorne went with the marines and John stayed outside. He took a few deep breaths before making his way over to his teammates.

"Find anything?" John asked succinctly.

"They weren't after the technology," Rodney said. "They purposely destroyed everything, laptops and Ancient devices alike. One of the laptops was still connected, so they didn't plug in their own equipment to take readings or download information. It was almost like . . . like they only cared about destroying everything they could."

"They took all the weapons," said Ronon. "Someone on Atlantis will need to confirm, but it looks like they were killed with their own guns, or at least something similar."

"Well, the closest thing to our weapons we've seen has been the Genii weapons," said Rodney. "Do you think they were involved?"

"I doubt it," said John. "They would have tried to take the technology, even if they didn't know how to use it. And Dr. Cravens was a gene carrier. At the very least I think they would have taken her. Besides, I don't really see Ladon taking a chance on wrecking our little treaty just to kill a bunch of our people."

"No, I suppose not," said Rodney. "Kolya would if he was still alive."

Their attention was diverted as two marines came out with a body bag and carried it toward the jumper. John's face tightened in a way that meant he was clenching his jaws together. The line across his brow deepened with the growing tension darkening his face.

"You realize this was in no way your fault, right?" asked Rodney, watching John's expression carefully.

The tight, yet relatively blank expression flinched momentarily before dropping back into place. "We were originally scheduled for this mission. I shifted it over to Baker after our visit to the Kurians ran three days over." Their trade visit with the Kurians had turned into a search and rescue mission after a huge storm had led to a flood that wiped out half the town. They spent four days up to their eyeballs in mud and water digging out corpses and the remains of a whole village's life. When they drug through the gate the afternoon before this scheduled mission, they had been tired and wet and completely depressed. John had quickly found someone to take this mission and now that someone was dead.

"Carson told us to rest and stay warm and dry today," said Teyla. "I doubt that he would have cleared us for a mission so soon anyway."

"We're all due for a raging case of the flu or pneumonia after being wet and cold for four days. I think I still have mud in my ears," lamented Rodney, reaching up to wiggle his finger in his ear.

"At least you're alive," John said with a hint of annoyance before stalking off to join the soldiers moving the bodies. Ronon shrugged his shoulders and followed John into the building.

"I don't think I can go back in there," Rodney said quietly, staring at the entrance. He'd seen a lot of death since coming to the Pegasus galaxy, but this had been particularly gruesome. He couldn't get the smell out of his nose or the taste of the air from his mouth. He was beginning to understand John's reaction just a little better, thinking that his own reaction might have been delayed due to shock. Shuddering, he suddenly wanted a really long and very hot shower.

"Are you all right?" asked Teyla, placing her hand on his forearm in a way that always seemed to ground the scientist.

"No, I'm not," Rodney said honestly. "And I don't think I will be for a while."

Teyla nodded, letting out a deep breath in that calm, but disturbed way that she had. "I know what you mean. I feel the same way." They watched as Ronon and John walked by with a black body bag, their faces dark and strained as sweat beaded on their brow. Rodney knew he should probably offer to help, but he just couldn't make himself. He couldn't stand the thought of carrying a bag containing a body.

When all the bodies were loaded, Teyla and Rodney walked over to join John, Ronon, and Lorne at the foot of the jumper hatch. Lorne turned and walked up the ramp as they reached their destination.

"We're going into town to ask question," John said as the hatch began to rise.

"What? But . . . why? Shouldn't we go back first?" Rodney sputtered. He wanted that shower and then he wanted to lose himself in his research and forget about the blood and gray matter he'd been forced to deal with for the past ninety minutes.

"No, Rodney, we need to go ask questions and track these animals down before they get away. If we don't get on their trail quickly, we may never figure this out. Our people deserve justice and we need to make sure these guys never do this again." John was using his military commander voice, leaving no room for argument. As if to back up the fact that it was an order, he began marching down the path that led to the town even as the jumper slowly lifted off and maneuvered between the trees.

"Fine," Rodney snapped, angry with John for making him stay, angry with the killers for making him feel like his eyes and brain were dirty, angry with the world for being such a place that this could happen to anyone. He rushed to catch up to John, panting within minutes as he tried to keep up. "Just tell me one thing, Colonel. This is obviously very personal for you and since we're being drug along for the ride, I think that makes it our business. What's your problem, anyway?"

John turned on Rodney so fast that he flinched back, certain for a moment that the pilot was going to hit him. His eyes were as dark as Rodney had ever seen them, making John look wildly homicidal. Rodney realized he was afraid of his best friend.

"What's my problem?" John sputtered, spittle flying from his mouth and his face reddening. "You really have to ask? Close your eyes, McKay and pretend you're in the hands of the enemy. That should be easy since we've done it so many times before. Now they place a burlap bag over your face so that everything gets dark. You can smell the dust and the mold, an earthy smell that makes the oxygen suddenly seem in very short supply. You're hustled around with the rest of your people, but you can't see where you're going, so you just stumble along where they push you. Your hands are tied behind your back, making you feel even more helpless and throwing off your balance. Then you're made to kneel in the dirt and you can feel your friends kneeling beside you. You're shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. Everything gets quiet and you think you know what's coming, but there's nothing you can do to stop it."

John was breathing heavily now, sweat rolling down the side of his face as his teammates listened in fascination. Rodney could feel the fear and dread building even as John continued to spin his story.

"The first shot is fired and the whole group flinches. You hear the thump of a body hitting the dirt, but you don't know who was the first to die. You can taste the extra dirt in the stale air making its way into the bag over your head. You can feel the muzzle of a gun in the back of your head so you know what's coming, you just don't know when. Another shot goes off and the man beside you goes down. You feel the heat of the bullet, feel the air displacement. You can feel something splatter against your arm and your neck where the bag doesn't cover. It's either blood or brains, doesn't much matter which. Both mean another man is dead and your turn is getting closer. You can't help but wonder what it will feel like. Will it hurt? Will you know in that instant before death that it's your turn? You wonder about friends you've left behind? Will they forgive you for getting yourself killed like this?"

John rubbed his hand across his face, wiping away the sweat and leaving the front of his hair sticking straight up. "It's a hard way to die, McKay. And it can be even harder to live with." John stepped back, as if he just realized what he'd said. His mouth opened like he wanted to say something else, but he just frowned and shook his head, turning away from his team and resuming his walk to town. His pace had slowed considerably, as if the wind had been knocked out of him.

Rodney looked at Ronon and Teyla and realized they were as horrified as he was. No wonder John was so shaken by what had happened. He had been where Baker's team had been and somehow lived through it. A deep scowl etched itself deeply into Ronon's face as he watched John's back. "We'll get them Sheppard," he rumbled.

With a deep sigh, Rodney nodded and fell in behind John. Teyla joined him, with Ronon covering their six. No matter what happened or how this played out, it wasn't going to pretty.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Execution - Chapter 2**

John concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and leaving the scene of carnage behind. Images of the bodies of his men flashed through his head, intermingling with images from Afghanistan and a memory he'd worked hard to put behind him. It had been months before he could close his eyes without smelling the musty bag or hearing the gun go off inches from his head. Now the smell was continually with him, the sounds of gunshots and falling bodies echoing continuously in his head. He wasn't even aware the roaring in his ears had drowned everything else out until someone grabbed his arm as they called his name. John reacted immediately, whipping around to strike out with a defensive swing. If Ronon hadn't grabbed Rodney and jerked him back, the pilot would have decked the scientist. The sounds of guns in his head were replaced with the pounding of his racing heart.

Rodney pulled out of Ronon's grip on his upper arms, looking angrily at John. "What was that for?"

Stepping back, John tried to suck in enough air to keep up with his heartbeat. He had to get a grip. He was losing it right in front of his team. "Sorry . . . I'm sorry, Rodney. You startled me . . . I didn't mean . . . " John sighed and ran one hand through his hair. "Look . . . I'm sorry about trying to hit you and . . . I'm sorry about snapping at you earlier and . . . I just . . . "

"It's okay," Rodney said, his expression softening. "Look . . .we're a team, right? We stick together. I don't know exactly what happened to you but . . . I know it must have been pretty bad. And you're right, being executed like that would be a horrible way to die. We'll find them and make sure they never do this to anyone else."

Teyla stepped closer and put one hand on John's shoulder, looking up with her dark eyes. "Rodney is right. We will not stop until we have found the ones who did this."

"We'll stop them, Sheppard," Ronon said firmly.

Taking a deep breath, John gave a small nod. He wasn't sure what he'd ever done to deserve a team like this, to deserve friends like this, but he would always be grateful for them. They were the only reason he was able to hold himself together right now. "Thanks, guys," he murmured, knowing that even though he wanted to say more, that would be enough. Ronon slapped him on the back so hard he nearly knocked John over as they continued down the path. They arrived at the town a few minutes later.

"I'm thinking the town tavern," John said, pointing to a rough wooden building that seemed to fit the bill. When they entered, they knew immediately that they were in the right place. Wooden tables were scattered through the dark interior with a long bar along the back wall. About half the tables were occupied and several women were moving around serving drinks and sometimes food. John weaved his way to the bar and a woman in her mid-twenties who was handing a tray to one of the other girls. She turned to face him and broke out into a big smile.

"Well, hello, stranger. My name is Callia, what can I get you?"

John made sure his eyes kept to her face and not her chest, where her breasts were trying to overflow her dress. "Hi, I'm John. These are my friends, Rodney, Teyla, and Ronon. We were looking for some information about some friends of ours. They would have been dressed like me and may have come to town earlier today."

The woman's eyes lit up and she nodded. "Yes, they were here. I fed them the morning meal after the one called Baker saved me from that ruffian."

John's heart, which had finally begun to settle into a somewhat normal rhythm, nearly jumped out of his chest. "What? What happened?"

Callia grinned seductively at John and then winked at Ronon. "Are you sure you don't want something to eat or drink?"

Any other time, John might have enjoyed the flirting or even found it amusing. But with the stench of death still in his nostrils and fear still clenching his gut, he just wasn't in the mood. "Look, Callia, maybe another time. We're working on a deadline here, so please, just tell us what happened."

Sticking her lower lip out, Callia flicked her head, throwing her long brown hair over her shoulder. "Baker was more fun," she said.

"Baker is on his way home with a hole in his head, along with the rest of his team. Are you going to help us or not because I don't have time for this," John snapped under his breath.

Callia's mouth dropped open and her face blanched white. "You mean . . . they're dead?"

"Every one of them," John said harshly.

Teyla moved up to stand beside him, frown firmly in place. He knew the expression well. It meant _stop talking now because you're ruining things._

Turning her attention to the woman behind the counter, Teyla's expression and voice softened. "I am afraid John is telling the truth. We found them a short while ago and we are hoping to find the people responsible for their deaths. It was a very cruel and harsh death, so I hope you will forgive John being so abrupt. We are only concerned with finding those responsible before they do something like this to someone else."

Callia nodded, looking truly disturbed by the news that Baker's team was dead. "I'm sorry they are dead. I liked them . . . especially Baker."

"Please . . . can you tell us what happened?" pleaded John.

Tilting her head toward a table, Callia came around the bar. "Let's sit down." When they were all seated, she took a deep breath and began. "A group of men came in last night . . . said they were traders, but I didn't believe them. They had weapons not unlike your smaller ones and they were crude and smelled bad. They ate and drank a lot, but they were loud and rough. They stayed late . . . staggered out of town when they were good and drunk. I think they said something about setting up camp somewhere. They were back this morning wanting food. We fed them . . . afraid not to. All but one of them left and then he . . . he called me over for more drink and then he started to get rough."

Callia rubbed her neck, drawing attention to the livid bruise there. "He had his hands in places they didn't belong and when I protested, he started strangling me. He just laughed while I gasped for air. Thought I was going to die and then . . . your people came in. Baker told him to let me go. When he laughed and told him to mind his own business, Baker took him down. It was the prettiest sight I've ever seen, him slammin' that man on the floor and refusin' to let him up until he agreed to leave me alone. When Baker let go, he ran out of here so fast I'll bet he wet his pants."

Rubbing the side of his throbbing head, John fought the nausea threatening to make another spectacular appearance. Now they had motive. They hadn't been attacked for the Ancient technology or because they had offended someone's religious beliefs by entering the structure, it had been petty revenge for making a thug look bad. "How many of them were there?"

"Twelve."

"They were outnumbered," commented Ronon.

"Yeah," John said. "Only four of the team were military."

Rodney frowned and scratched the side of his head. "But if Baker insulted that one guy by making him look bad, why'd they kill the others?"

"Because they were there," said Teyla. "That is all the reason some people need."

"They feed on the fear of others," said John. "They're worse than the Wraith. At least the Wraith kill to survive. These guys kill because they like it."

"Are you going to stop them?" asked Callia.

"Yes, we are," said John firmly. He didn't plan on stopping until they had every one of them. "Did they give you any idea where they came from?"

The woman tilted her head a bit, shifting her eyes up as she thought. "They aren't from this world, that's for sure. The weapons looked like those of Acacia, but some of them had coarse coats that looked like those of Mrecraenar. Oh, and the one that attacked me had tokens like those used in the Wrenlinck market."

John glanced at Teyla. "Are you familiar with any of these places?"

"I have visited the Wrenlinck market on many occasions. They have much for purchase or trade and have been around for many years. They might have accumulated all of those items at the market."

"She's right," said Ronon. "I've purchased some good knives there."

"Yeah, I'll just bet you have," Rodney muttered. In response, Ronon flashed him an evil grin.

"Can you tell us what these men looked like?" asked Teyla.

"I can tell you about the one that attacked me. He wasn't tall, kind of like you," she said, pointing to Rodney, who promptly rolled his eyes. "He had a bushnol coat, thick dark hair cut short, blue eyes that are almost white and a scar across his face. It goes through his left eyebrow and continues to his cheek. There is another scar on the back of his right hand, going across like this." She took her index finger from the knuckle of her first finger diagonally across the back of her hand to her wrist. "It was bad and is hard to miss."

John gently placed his hand on the back of hers as she rested it on the table. "Thank you."

Callia shuddered and looked at each of them in turn. "Just get them, okay? I keep thinking . . . if Baker hadn't helped me . . . "

"Then you would probably be dead," said Teyla. "You must not feel guilty. They have killed before and they will kill again if not stopped. The deaths are on their heads."

"Looks like we're going to market," said John.

Callia frowned. "It is getting dark and it will be dangerous. You should stay here for the night. I have two rooms I could let you use, no charge of course."

"We need to get to this market place as soon as possible. The longer it takes us to catch up to these guys, the less the chance we will," said John. He wasn't taking any chances on losing them completely.

"It will be late on Wrenlinck. The market has closed and the venders have returned to their dwellings. They will not talk to you until tomorrow," pointed out Callia.

"She is right," added Teyla. "Their time is several hours ahead of this world. We should rest and try first thing in the morning."

John shook his head. He was still full of adrenalin, his body aching for motion and his mind craving some sort of resolution. He couldn't just go to bed when the killers were still running around. "I'm going tonight. I can scout around, maybe see if I can find their camp."

"Sheppard, you aren't thinking," scolded Ronon. "It's too dangerous to go wandering around on what might possibly be their home ground in the dark. And even if it isn't, they've been there a lot and are familiar with the territory. You'll just scare the locals prowling around in the middle of the night. Wait until morning or you might chase off our leads."

Gritting his teeth in frustration, John grunted and nodded. Ronon was right. He didn't like it, but going there tonight could hurt their investigation a lot more than help it. "Fine, we'll wait."

"We might as well go back to Atlantis," said Rodney. "We could brief Woolsey and sleep in our own beds. And take a nice, long hot shower."

John had to admit that the long, hot shower part of Rodney's argument sounded pretty good. "You're right. Callia, thank you for your help. You shouldn't have to worry about those guys bothering you again."

Nodding, the girl gave a timid smile. "Thank you. I wish you safety and success."

"That's the plan," said John.

oOo

After Woolsey was briefed and Keller admonished them all to get rest since they were still recovering from their previous mission, John returned to his quarters. He stayed in the shower until he was certain his skin was permanently wrinkled, yet he could still feel blood on his hands and smell the stench of death. After pulling on some light-weight athletic pants and a t-shirt, he stood staring at his bed.

He was exhausted beyond words, and yet John was sure he wouldn't be able to sleep. The adrenalin rush of the last few hours had finally wound down, leaving his muscles heavy and aching. His head throbbed and his sinuses were beginning to get that heavy feeling that usually preceded a cold. His throat was getting scratchy as well, so it looked like four days in the cold mud were getting ready to kick his ass. Catching Baker and his team's killers would have to come first though.

Too tired to run, John decided to walk to the farthest pier. He hoped a little time out in the salt breeze would wash the smells from his nose and the sour taste from his mouth. Images, tastes, smells, and sounds from his almost-execution were flashing almost continuously now. It was like it had happened this afternoon instead of ten years ago. Knowing he couldn't function like this, he needed to find a way to push everything back until their task was over.

Bypassing the transporters, it took John over an hour to hike to the pier, but he was warm for the first time that day. He'd been cold since finding the bodies, as if the cold cruelty of the killings had seeped into his bones. Making his way to the edge, he sat down and hung his legs over the side. "Should have brought a beer," he said out loud. He sucked in a deep breath. He could still taste blood and musty bags and death, but it was a little better out here. A small part of him also tasted and smelled ocean. Maybe if he breathed it in long enough and stared at the moonlight all night, he could find himself again. He hoped it at least allowed him to keep himself together long enough to rid the galaxy of a few vermin.

oOo

Teyla looked up as John entered the control room above. He talked to Woolsey a moment before heading down the stairs to join the rest of his team. Glancing at Ronon and then Rodney, she knew from their expressions that she had not imagined the dark smudges under John's eyes or the strain in his face.

"He doesn't look so good," mumbled Rodney.

"Just means we keep watch over him," answered Ronon quietly.

"You guys ready?" asked John, just before sneezing three times.

"John, are you ill?" asked Teyla, frowning slightly.

"I'm good, just a few sneezes," he said, watching the wormhole swoosh into life.

"We could do this later," Rodney offered. "You know, after you feel better."

"I won't feel better until these guys are dead," John said darkly and then moved toward the gate. There was a slight blip as he walked through the puddle. With a sigh, Teyla followed him.

They walked the dirt path in silence for fifteen minutes before reaching the open air market. Booths were set up in several rows, some of them well constructed and some of them not. Crowds of people ambled around, purchasing foods and cloth, clothing and weapons, knick knacks and furniture. Teyla let a smile grace her lips as she remembered the trips she made here with her father.

"Teyla, did you say you know people here?" asked John, looking around in confusion.

"I used to know a few of the venders. Telenia used to sell her candles and lamps down this way," she said, pointing up one of the rows. "If she is still here, she would help us."

"Lead the way," John said.

They weaved their way through the dusty throngs of people to a booth halfway down the aisle. An older woman with braided gray hair sat humming to herself as she painted flowers on the side of a lamp.

"Telenia?"

The woman paused in her humming and then looked up, staring at them for a moment before smiling broadly and pulling herself to her feet. "Teyla? Is that you child?"

The warm voice filled Teyla with pleasure, bringing back fond memories of her travels with her father. Telenia had always doted on her, giving her small gifts and hugging her like her mother used to. "Yes, it is Teyla. It is good to see you, Telenia. It had been a long time."

Telenia put her hands on Teyla's shoulders and bowed her head as Teyla tipped forward to meet her. They stood leaning on one another for a moment before straightening back up. "Come and sit," said Telenia, motioning toward a stool as she sat down.

"These are my friends," Teyla said, waving toward her teammates. "This is Colonel Sheppard, Dr. Rodney McKay, and Ronon Dex. We are seeking information and I was hoping you could help."

"I will if I can," said Telenia cheerfully.

With a small nod, Teyla continued. "We are looking for a group of men that we believe have traded here. One of them has a scar across his face." Teyla traced the path of the scar across her face and then the repeated the act with her hand. "A second one crosses his hand like this."

A bitter scowl immediately blanketed Telenia's face. "I know of whom you speak. Please tell me that they are not your friends."

"They killed some of our people," John said.

"That does not surprise me," said the old woman with a shake of her had. "They are bad news, always bad news. The only reason they are still allowed to come here is they spend much, mostly buying weapons from the more wealthy venders. For small ones like me, they just cause trouble and destroy things."

"Have they caused you trouble?" asked Teyla, concerned for her friend.

"I can take care of myself," Telenia said defiantly. "But not before they destroyed half my merchandise. It seems they wanted a better price for my lamps."

Ronon straightened and stepped closer, anger flashing across his face. "Why didn't they Council take action?"

"Because they came at night after I had closed to insure there were no witnesses. Then they stood around and laughed at me when the night watchers came to get me. Yelled things like if I didn't charge so much, people wouldn't get mad and tear up my booth. I know they did it, but the Council turned a blind eye."

Sighing, Teyla looked up at John and Rodney. "Many of the wealthy weapons dealers she spoke of are on the Council."

"Sounds like a familiar set up," said Rodney. "Some things are constant everywhere you go."

"Do you know where their home camp is?" asked John.

"Not here, thank the Ancestors," she said. "I believe I heard them refer to Learc'ksay when they were muttering about taking their purchases back with them. If you go after them, give them an extra kick for me and tell them Telenia sends her regards!"

Ronon smiled his approval and even John and Rodney turned up a corner of their mouth. She had always admired the fire in Telenia, finding it similar to that of her father. "Thank you Telenia. We are grateful for your aid."

John opened his mouth, Teyla assumed to add his thanks too, but sneezed unexpectedly. He looked like he might sneeze again for a moment, but instead broke out in a coughing fit that went on for several seconds. By the time he had stopped, Telenia had poured him a cup of water and handed it to him. John drained it.

"You should sit down," offered the old woman. "You are ill."

Wiping the water from his mouth with the back of his hand, John shook his head. "I'm fine. It's the dust."

"This one you need to watch," Telenia said, looking intently at Teyla.

"I know," Teyla agreed. She had seen John in many situations and learned to read him, even when he did not want her to. And she could see pain and exhaustion in his eyes. Although his face still looked as pale as yesterday, a slight flush had come up on his cheeks and sweat on his brow, in spite of the pleasant temperature. She knew better than to suggest he return to Atlantis until this was finished. "We will be with him."

Telenia walked over to John and touched his left temple with her finger. Teyla thought he was going to pull back for a moment, but he merely flinched. The older woman frowned and then looked sympathetic. "You are troubled deeply by what has happened."

"Yeah, I tend to get upset when my people are slaughtered," John replied curtly.

"It is more than that," she said sadly, shaking her head once. "You must not let fear and anger and guilt rule over you. Fight these things to remain true to yourself."

John twisted his face away from Telenia, looking surprised and nervous as he took a step back. He stumbled, but Ronon was right behind him so that he only bumped into the big man instead of falling.

"I am sorry," Telenia said, moving quickly back into her booth. "You must forgive a foolish old woman her strange ways. Good luck on your journey and I hope you find what you are looking for." She directed the last part of her statement at John, who still just stood staring as if in a trance.

"Thank you again," Teyla said, touching Telenia on the shoulder. "We will take care of each other," she reassured the old woman.

"You do that. And come back to see an old woman, Teyla. I want to know what has become of you these last years."

With a smile, Teyla nodded. "When our business is concluded, I will return and visit. We have much to discuss."

Ronon hustled John around until he was shuffling along beside them. "Uh, what's with the . . . " He trailed off as he pointed behind him.

"Telenia has always been odd," Teyla said vaguely.

"Do you know the address of this leary . . . uh, leaky . . . " Rodney's voice trailed off as he gave up trying to remember.

"Learc'ksay," said Teyla. "Yes, I know of it. It is a dangerous world where only thugs and criminals stay."

"Thugs?" asked Rodney.

"Yes, I believe I have used the word correctly," Teyla said firmly.

"Well, yeah, you did, I just wasn't expecting . . . we really have corrupted you," said Rodney with a small sigh.

"That's not necessarily a bad thing, McKay," said Ronon.

"No, I guess not," the scientist admitted. "You okay?" he asked John.

"I will be after we find these bastards," John said.

Teyla hoped that was soon. She was beginning to notice how rough John's voice sounded. He coughed again and she thought his eyes were starting to look glassy. She was pretty sure he hadn't slept at all the night before and he was obviously getting sick. She was ripped from her thoughts by a series of sneezes coming from Rodney.

"Oh, that 's just great," said the scientist. "Now we're both sick. I'll bet you gave me your germs."

"You know what they say, misery loves company. Hello company," John said with a smirk.

"Well, thanks misery. We'll both probably start sneezing in the middle of our raid and we'll all be killed."

John rubbed the side of his head and groaned. "Way to be optimistic, McKay."

"You're welcome."

Teyla shared a look with Ronon and suddenly began to wonder if going to Learc'ksay alone was a good idea. John was sick and heavy with the need for revenge, while Rodney was apparently getting sick and . . . well, he was Rodney. From the look on Ronon's face, he was sharing her doubt.

They reached the gate a few minutes later and Teyla was a bit surprised at how strong and determined John looked. He paused by the DHD. "This is it, guys. I thought about calling for backup, but too many people could spook them off or start a firefight that will get a lot of people killed. I say we go in and scout them out, see what their situation is before we make any firm decisions on how to handle this."

Ronon nodded, looking more confident in their situation. Even Rodney seemed to have become more serious and less whiny, nodding his approval of John's plan. The Colonel turned to Teyla. "You know the most about this place. What do you suggest?" Teyla felt a little guilty about her doubts from a moment before. She should always know that she could trust John. They all could.

"There are several groups that make their home there and none of them trust the others. For that reason, the gate is in a neutral place and no group is allowed to keep control. Getting on the planet will not be a problem. Staying alive once we get there will."

"Then we'll just have to be careful," John said easily. "Are we ready?"

"Let's do this," said Ronon.

With a nod, John turned to Teyla. "Dial her up."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Apparently the small editing/proofing skills I possess have left me completely. I apologize for the little errors that keep cropping up. If this chapter is like the last two, there are probably some stupid mistakes in it and I apologize ahead of time for them.

**Execution - Chapter 3**

"Unscheduled off world activation," said Chuck in response to the blaring alarm.

Richard Woolsey walked quickly from his office to stand beside the technician. After a brief check in the day before, Sheppard's team had been gone all night, investigating the possible home planet of the men who had killed Baker's team. Richard had barely been able to sleep the past two nights, thinking about how horrible the last few minutes had to have been for them, waiting for their own execution. A shudder passed through his body.

"It's Colonel Sheppard's IDC," said Chuck, sounding relieved.

Woolsey tapped his radio. "Colonel Sheppard, what is your status?" He didn't want to drop the shield to a potentially dangerous situation. Making that decision still made him incredibly nervous.

"_Tired and ready to come home."_

Woolsey nodded to Chuck. "We're dropping the shield now."

"_Thanks Atlantis. We're coming through."_

A few seconds later, four dirty and exhausted figures shuffled through the gate. They were covered with scrapes and bruises, bits of leaves and plant matter in their hair and clinging to their torn clothing. Rodney had a bloody field bandage tied around his left upper arm. Teyla was limping, obviously trying to keep the weight off her right ankle. Ronon had a bloody gash on his right forearm and a smaller one on the side of his neck. Richard had never figured out what the former runner's aversion to field bandages was, but he seemed to have one. John's arms and neck had small wounds that looked like shrapnel from a blast. The whole group looked ready to drop.

Woolsey hurried down the steps to meet the bedraggled team. "What happened? Did you find them?"

"We found them," John said, his voice rough and low. "They're all dead." Woolsey half expected the team leader to look pleased at that, but he just looked sad and beat.

"All of them?"

"All of them," Teyla confirmed. She was watching John carefully, as the whole team seemed to be doing. In the quiet moment that followed, Woolsey noticed the way Sheppard was wheezing slightly as he rapidly pulled in air. His face was flushed and sweat mixed in with dirt and blood to make him look a little wild.

"Okay, maybe you should get to the infirmary. You can fill me in on the details later." Woolsey was pretty sure Sheppard and possibly the others were on the verge of dropping in their tracks. He knew the guilty party had been found and dealt with, the details could wait until his people had been taken care of. He smiled a little at the thought. When had they become _his people?_

"I think that is an excellent idea," said Teyla with an appreciative nod.

Sheppard also gave him a nod, the small effort almost draining the man, and then the team slowly made their way out of the room. Woolsey watched them leave, wondering if he really wanted to know the details of how Sheppard's team had made it home relatively unhurt while taking down a group of at least a dozen violent and dangerous murderers. He was beginning to appreciate the art of creative editing when compiling reports for the IOA. He'd also developed a new respect for Elizabeth Weir in his limited time as the person in charge of the Atlantis expedition.

oOo

When they reached the infirmary, each team member was led to a separate exam bed. Apparently Woolsey had called ahead to warn the medical staff they were coming. Keller frowned at the group, as if deciding who looked worse. John had to smile a little at the hopeful look on Rodney's face as he watched and waited. Hope blossomed into a large grin when the good doctor headed toward the scientist after Keller had a brief word with her staff.

A nurse taking his pulse distracted John from friend-watching. He recognized the petite, dark-headed nurse as Amy, who had been his caregiver on more than one occasion. "You know, I could really use a long hot shower and big nap, not necessarily in that order."

Amy smiled at him. "You know the drill by now, Colonel. We'll let you go when we're sure you're okay." The smile fizzled just bit as she really looked at him. "How do you feel?"

As if on cue, John sneezed twice and then had to sniffle a little. "Fabulous for someone coming down with a cold."

Tsking under her breath, Amy frowned as she looked at the thermometer. "More than just a cold. I'm afraid you're running a fever, Colonel. You sound a little wheezy, too. Are you having trouble catching your breath?"

"Only when running for my life," John quipped, carefully avoiding answering the question. He was already unhappy about the fever, knowing that it reduced his chances of going back to his quarters considerably. He really wanted . . . no, he needed some time alone . . . time to decompress and pull himself together. Lying in an infirmary bed with nurses and visitors coming and going was not his idea of alone time.

The look Amy gave him reminded John of the way his father used to look at him when he gave one of his evasive, smart aleck answers to avoid giving up too much information. "You know we'll just do a scan in a few minutes and figure it out anyway. But if it makes you feel better to pretend you're okay when you're sick as dog, then go right ahead," she said, patting his arm. Suddenly he felt like a silly little boy. "I'll be right back, so stay put."

Alone, he sat staring at the floor and suddenly feeling very sad. A shiver ran through him with a sudden chill, even as sweat ran down the side of his face. His eyes burned, only partially from the lack of sleep, and his head throbbed relentlessly. Rubbing his hand roughly across his face, a tickle in his throat launched a coughing fit that left him dizzy and gasping for breath.

Things got fuzzy for a while after that. While struggling for air, he was peripherally aware of hands and faces, guiding him and talking to him. Sights and sounds and touches faded in and out, not making any sense. The only thing John cared about was getting enough oxygen. Some time during the confusion, the whole lack of air problem was solved, so he finally relaxed and let the events around him unfold without any contribution from him.

The next thing he knew, John was lying down looking up into the face of Jennifer Keller. He blinked a couple of times, letting the rest of the fog lift from his brain, only to realize Keller was smiling at him.

"Are you back with us?"

"Think so," John replied, his voice so scratchy it was barely there. "What happened?"

Keller adjusted the covers slightly against his chest and it was then that he realized he was in scrubs. Becoming more aware of his surroundings, he also discovered an IV and nasal cannula. He'd been more than just a little fuzzy, apparently.

"You've gotten yourself pretty run down is what happened," she said firmly, but without scolding. "You're exhausted, but I guess you already knew that. You're slightly dehydrated and you've built up quite a respiratory infection, now going into pneumonia. Fortunately it isn't anything a few days rest and some strong antibiotics won't fix."

"Sorry about that," John said. "I just . . . I had to take care of things for my people."

"I know," she said softly. "I heard about what happened. I'm really sorry."

John turned his head a little, noting the relative silence. "Where'd everyone go?"

Keller chuckled and crossed her arms. "I threatened them with their own IVs if they didn't go get something to eat. They'll probably be back in a few minutes to check on you. I had to swear you were going to be all right to get them out of my hair for a while."

"So everyone is okay?"

"Yeah, they're fine. I had to put a few stitches in Rodney's arm and Ronon's as well. Teyla sprained her ankle, but it's a mild sprain. I wrapped it and gave her some crutches to use for a few days."

"I'm guessing she loved that."

"Not so much," Keller said, grinning again. "Feel like eating?"

The question drew John's attention to how completely empty his stomach felt. "I could eat."

"Good. I'll have your team bring a tray back with them. Why don't you get a little more rest until they get here."

John gave her a small nod. He was still so tired he felt like his body was anchored to the bed. Although dulled, probably with drugs, his headache was still throbbing along enough to be uncomfortable and then there was the issue of the small elephant sitting on his chest. His eyes shut down operations even before the doctor was all the way across the room.

oOo

"John?"

Opening his eyes, John was not surprised to find Teyla standing beside his bed looking at him. He'd known it was her as soon as his brain registered the sound of her voice. Yawning, he shifted a little and looked around to see Rodney setting a tray of food on the rolling table near his bed. Ronon stood at the foot of the bed grinning at him, a large white bandage on one side of his neck and another on his arm.

"Hey, guys," John said roughly, clearing his throat and then coughing. Teyla pushed the button to sit him up a little more and then adjusted his pillows, all while balancing crutches beneath her arms. When he was finally settled, Rodney pushed the tray table over his lap and adjusted the height. "Thanks."

"You look a little better than the last time we saw you," Rodney announced. "I've never seen anyone come that close to doing a nose-dive off a gurney before."

John just stared at him blankly for a moment before shrugging his shoulders and stabbing his fork into the meatloaf. He was kind of glad he couldn't remember that part.

"How do you feel?" asked Teyla.

Swallowing, John considered the question. "Tired. And a little like a truck ran over me." He looked up at Rodney when the scientist sneezed. "How are you guys doing?"

"I have a cold, thanks to you," Rodney said, wiping his nose with a wad of tissues he'd pulled from his pocket.

"Rodney, is it not possible that you would have gotten sick anyway? You were with us in the rain and cold for four days," pointed out Teyla.

"Suck it up, McKay," said Ronon. "At least you aren't stuck in the infirmary with an IV and that breathing tube stuck under your nose."

"Well, that's true," Rodney said with a nod, relief on his face.

John stared at the Satedan as he let out a long breath. "Gee, thanks Chewie." Looking down, he swirled his fork in his mashed potatoes and resisted the urge to scratch the itch stirred up the cannula.

"Ronon," Teyla said in exasperation, "perhaps you could choose your words more carefully next time.

Ronon looked a little confused and then shrugged one shoulder. "Sheppard knows what I mean."

John stuffed a bite in his mouth so he wouldn't have to respond and almost gagged on it. He'd been starved a few minutes ago and now, only a few bites later, he felt full and slightly nauseous. Suddenly his food smelled musty and bitter.

"John?"

Snapping his head up, John frowned a little at Teyla. "Yeah? What?" All three of them were staring at him, worry in their eyes. He waved on hand at them while pushing the table away with the other. "I'm fine . . . just not as hungry as I thought."

"You barely ate anything," Rodney whined.

"He is ill, Rodney. Sometimes people do not feel like eating a lot when they feel bad."

John silently thanked whatever powers existed for Teyla. She knew how to rescue him when he needed it. As she pushed the table back against the wall, Woolsey entered the infirmary. Looking around a second, he headed over once he spotted them.

"Ah, good, Colonel, you're awake. It's good your team is here as well. I thought we could do a little informal briefing to give me an idea what happened and then you can write up your report when you've recovered."

"Does Jennifer know you're doing this?" asked Rodney. "Because the Colonel is sick, you know."

"It's okay," John said. "We might as well get it over with. Waiting isn't going to make it any easier."

"Fine," Rodney snapped, grabbing a chair. "But I'm sitting down." He plopped down loudly in the chair.

"Someone might want to get a chair for Teyla," John suggested. "You know, since she's the one on crutches."

Teyla tried to hide her smile as Rodney rolled his eyes. But the scientist stood up and pushed the chair over beside Teyla. He even took her crutches when she sat down and leaned them against the wall. "There, satisfied?" he asked, walking across the room to grab another chair.

"Thank you," Teyla said as Rodney sat down beside her.

"You're welcome."

Woolsey looked a little confused for a few seconds, but then turned his attention to John. "Uh, Colonel, you were saying?"

John pushed all his emotions back, trying to distance himself from the fear and horror of the past two days. Had it only been two days? "It took us several hours to find the camp we were looking for. Let's suffice it to say that Learc'ksay is not a nice place. Lots and lots of very bad people there. Anyway, we located their camp about six klicks from the gate. They had a pretty big wooden building with a couple of large gathering rooms and a kind of kitchen area. There were two wings coming off the back with living quarters. And their gang had a lot more than twelve in it. We counted . . . what, about thirty?"

"Twenty-eight," said Ronon.

John nodded. "Yeah, that's right. It was close to dark when we found their camp, so we hid out in the trees and watched them for a while. They had two guards posted outside."

"Were they expecting you?" asked Woolsey.

"No, they just don't trust the other groups on the planet," said Rodney.

"The camps have been known to raid one another when their supplies get low or they are bored," explained Teyla.

"Oh," said Woolsey, looking a bit surprised.

"By the time we'd been there a few hours, it was well past sundown. We had kind of figured out the layout of the building and found the two sentries and were trying to formulate a plan when one of the guards discovered us."

"How?" asked Woolsey. "Did he see you?"

"Not exactly," John drawled. He resisted looking at Rodney, but Ronon didn't.

"Okay, fine it was me," Rodney exclaimed. "I'm the one that gave us away." When Woolsey raised his eyebrows, Rodney sighed. "I sneezed."

"You sneezed," the IOA representative said.

"You heard me," Rodney snapped.

"It doesn't matter how they found us, just that they found us," John said, heading off another round of _you made me sick_. "We managed to take out the guards, but not before the rest of their group figured out we were there. We held them off for a while, but then a few managed to escape the building. We were trying to keep the ones still inside where they were while trying to eliminate the ones who'd gotten out."

"Sounds like a big job for four people," observed Woolsey.

"You have no idea," Rodney lamented. "The ones that got out were sneaking around trying to kill us. That's how I got shot," he said, nodding toward the bandage on his arm.

"They did keep us pretty busy most of the night," said John. "Eventually we managed to eliminate the ones outside, but more kept trying to sneak out and the ones in the compound were still shooting at us every time we moved. And we were starting to run low on ammo. At dawn, I think they must have decided they were tired of playing with us. They really opened up on us and we were having trouble keeping them all in the building . . . so I blew them up."

"You . . . what? You blew them up?" Woolsey stammered.

"Kaboom!" said Ronon proudly, throwing his hands up over his head.

"Yes, our favorite kamikaze pilot over there ran right up to the building while a dozen people shot at him and planted several C4 charges. Then, just in case that wasn't enough, he threw a couple of grenades through the windows . . . past those same people with guns trying to kill him." Rodney sighed and shook his head. "I have no idea how he got out of that alive. When the charges started going off, he was still trying to throw one in the window."

Woolsey studied John and then nodded. "That explains all the cuts. He was close enough to the blast to get peppered with debris."

"He's just lucky he didn't end up being chopped beef," Rodney said.

"And were there any survivors?" asked Woolsey.

John frowned deeply as he stared at his hands. "No. The place went up like a tinderbox. We waited til it cooled down some and checked. They . . . they were all killed." He wasn't proud of what he'd done. It was never a good thing when you killed that many people. He tried telling himself that the galaxy was better off without them, and realistically, it probably was. But killing still left a very bitter taste in his mouth, even when it seemed there was no other option.

"We did what we had to do," said Ronon, as if reading his thoughts.

John leaned his head back as he looked at his friends. "Yeah, I know. It's just not something I want to celebrate. But at least they won't be able to kill any more innocent people."

"You did the right thing," said Woolsey quietly. "I should let you get some rest before Dr. Keller comes after me. Take it easy, Colonel."

John nodded at the man and then rubbed his eyes. He barely had the energy to keep them open.

"We should let you rest as well," said Teyla, pushing herself to her feet. Rodney jumped up and grabbed her crutches.

"I know you guys have to be tired too," John said. "You should get some sleep."

"Now _that_ sounds like a brilliant idea," said Rodney. "We'll come by in the morning and make sure you haven't found any more trouble."

"Sounds good," John said.

"Rest well, John." Teyla gripped his hand a moment before turning to go. Rodney walked out beside her, carefully watching her with one hand out in case she lost her balance. He doubted the scientist was even aware of the protective streak he'd developed about his team.

Looking up, he found Ronon taking over the chair previously occupied by Teyla. "What'cha doin', big guy?"

"Sitting with you for a while."

"You know, you don't have to do that. You didn't sleep last night either and I know you got banged around some. Go on. I'll be fine."

Ronon grunted. "I'm staying her for a while Sheppard. Get used to it."

John closed his eyes. "Suit yourself." He lost the battle not to smile.

TBC

_I know I did too much telling on this chapter, but time is a big ugly monster right now and it was do it like this or not do the story at all. And this story was eating a hole in my brain to get written. Have I mentioned I was briefly possessed by it?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: **I want to thank you guys for all the wonderful reviews. My internet service has been AWOL for a while, so I'm posting the final chapter while it's working. I'll have to catch up on answering reviews when I get home later (provided the internet is still going).

**Execution - Chapter 4**

John sat straight up, panting so hard he was almost dizzy. His heart beat so fast in his chest that it seemed like there was no gap between. The musty smell of the bag and the scratch of the rough fabric against his face was still very real.

"Sheppard?"

Jumping, John jerked back as he swiveled his head. Ronon was standing beside his bed, brows furrowed in concern. It threw him for a moment and he quickly glanced around to see where he was. The infirmary. Everything suddenly fell into place.

"Yeah, I'm okay," John breathed out.

"Colonel Sheppard? Is everything okay?"

John jumped again at the sound of the nurse's voice on his other side. The over-active startle reflex was starting to get on his nerves. "I'm fine."

"Another nightmare?" she asked, directing her question to Ronon.

"Yeah, looks like it," the big man answered.

Normally John would be getting annoyed at being talked about like he wasn't there, but his main concern right now was the feeling of suffocation that was tightening his chest. He could still feel the bag over his head, smell the dirt and sweat that had penetrated the fabric. Telling himself that everything was fine and he was in Atlantis wasn't doing any good and he found himself almost gasping for air. Clawing at the blankets, he began pulling his feet out from under the covers.

"What are you doing?" asked Ronon.

"Colonel Sheppard, please, you need to stay in bed. You're very ill," the nurse said as she tried to hold him in place.

"I need to get out of here . . . I can't breathe . . . it's like that bag is still on my head . . . please, just for a few minutes." He was frantic to get outside, to get some air that didn't smell like death.

"Sheppard, you're sick. You need to stay here."

"No, I need outside . . . please, the balcony . . . just for a while . . ." He knew the bag wasn't on his face and yet he couldn't stop himself from clawing at it, rubbing his hand roughly across his head. "I just . . . I can't breathe . . . "

Ronon apparently sensed his panic, because he quit trying to hold him down and began helping him get out of bed.

"No, no, no," said the nurse. "It's chilly out there . . . it's not even dawn yet."

"He can cover up with blankets," said Ronon.

The nurse looked perplexed for a moment and then sighed in resignation. "Okay, I'll probably lose my job over this when Dr. Keller finds out. Wait and let me get a wheelchair and some blankets."

Ten minutes later, John was bundled up in several blankets in a wheelchair and hooked to a portable oxygen tank. His IV hung on a pole in the back of the chair. "I'm going out there with you," said the nurse. "And we aren't staying long."

"Thank you," John whispered, his heart still thumping in his chest. He was panting like he'd just run a marathon, but he still felt like he was being suffocated. As soon as they pushed him out on the balcony, he sucked in as deep a breath as he could. The cool air felt good against the hot skin of his face. Turning his face up, the shimmering stars across the great expanse of sky seemed to lift a weight off his chest. He could still smell the stale air of the bag, but it had been diluted enough he could breathe again. Letting his head tilt back against the pillow shoved under his shoulders, he finally began to relax.

After a few minutes, John squirmed around until he had his hands free of the blankets. The heavy pressure confining his arms had made him feel restrained.

"You okay, Sheppard?"

Rubbing his wrists, John glanced at the Satedan, who had perched on the edge of the rail. "Fine . . . just needed my hands free."

Ronon nodded, as if he understood. Knowing Ronon's history, he probably did. The nurse perked up and touched her radio.

"I'm on my way," she said, turning to the two men. "I've a got a couple of patients coming in."

"I'll bring him in," said Ronon.

She looked unsure, but finally relented. "All right, but not too much longer. The Colonel doesn't need to get a chill and it's almost time for his meds."

"I'll take care of him."

With a quick nod, the nurse left. John looked up at Ronon. "Thanks." The next few minutes were spent watching the sunrise, which was spectacular. When Ronon spoke next, he surprised John.

"What happened to you?"

Ronon rarely asked questions, so him suddenly wanting to know about John's past threw the pilot off guard. And he wasn't sure why, but he started answering.

"Do you remember me telling you a little about Afghanistan?"

"Yeah. Doesn't sound like a good place."

"In a lot of ways, it isn't," John replied. The sound of the door opening made him pause. Rodney and Teyla walked out on the balcony.

"I can't believe she let you come out here. I thought she was kidding when she told me where you were. Jennifer's going to have a fit," the scientist said almost smugly.

"He's going to tell me what happened," Ronon said shortly.

"What? Really?" asked Rodney.

John glared at Ronon. He had no idea why he'd been about to open up to the Satedan, but the audience was uncomfortably large now. He looked at Rodney's expectant face and Teyla's concerned one. And then it hit him. This was his team. His family. They trusted him, no matter how insane or last minute his plan. They trusted him, plain and simple. Maybe it was time he trusted them back.

"Ten years ago I was stationed in Afghanistan. We were picking up part of a unit that had gotten trapped behind enemy lines when the fronts shifted. We got them and were on our way home when my chopper was hit. There were eight of us on board. I managed to set us down, but it was rough. We were all pretty banged up to one degree or another, but one man was seriously injured. The rebel soldiers got to us just a few minutes after we went down. They shot him."

Rodney gasped, obviously shocked. "They just shot him?"

"He couldn't walk and they didn't want to waste time hauling him. There were a lot of days when I thought he was the lucky one. They kept us prisoner for weeks, moving us from camp to camp. The last one was rough, really rough. We'd been there for . . . I don't actually know . . . maybe a couple of weeks . . . and they weren't getting anything useful out of us. The guy in charge got tired of messing with us and I guess he figured they'd just make a show out of killing us."

John rubbed his head, willing the emotions beginning to swell to back down. The feel of the bag was now rough and dry on his face, the smell of dust and mold strong in his nostrils. He could almost feel the heat of the desert, the grime of sand in his shirt.

"John, if you do not wish to continue, we will understand."

He looked up into Teyla's dark eyes, shimmering with moisture in the early morning sunlight. He rarely took the time to really see her beauty, but today it was hard to miss.

"No, I'm okay. I just needed a minute. They roughed us up one last time and then tied our hands behind our back. We were marched out into the courtyard and two Afghans from a different part of the camp were put with us. They lined us all up and proceeded to read out a list of our crimes and then they put the bags over our heads."

John rubbed his neck, feeling the drawstring tighten against his flesh, cutting in just enough to be uncomfortable. Then he rubbed his cheek, trying to rid himself of the feel of the scratchy fabric of the bag.

"We were forced to kneel in the dirt. They had us bunched together so that our shoulders touched. They wanted us to know when they shot the guy next to us. I was second from the end, but I didn't know where they were going to start. I could feel the guy's hand on my shoulder, making sure I stayed down. I could feel the barrel of the gun pressed into the back of my head. He wanted me to feel it, to know that he was going to put a bullet in my brain."

A tremor ran through his body, the shaking never completely going away. He could taste the fear again, bitter in his mouth. His heart was racing again, almost every muscle tensed.

"The first shot scared the hell out of me. It was farther down the line, but I heard him drop. I could almost feel the swirl of the dust he stirred up. They waited what seemed like forever to shoot the next one, purposely driving up our fear. They shot the guy next to me, messing up the order so we wouldn't know when it was coming. I'm pretty sure it was Ron Jackson, but I don't guess it matters much. I felt his body jerk and then fall away from me. I waited, almost wishing I'd be next just to get it over with, but I wasn't."

Clutching the blanket, John was vaguely aware of his fingers twisting knots into the fabric, but he didn't care. He was wondering why he'd thought telling about this part of his life was a good idea, because it seemed really stupid right now. He jumped when Teyla took his hand and held it. He was amazed at how warm her skin felt against his. He hadn't realized his hands were that cold. She smiled and nodded at him, giving him courage to continue.

"I lost count at where they were, but suddenly there was a lot of babbling I couldn't understand and then I was jerked to my feet. The bag was ripped off my head. The only ones left alive were me and one of the Afghans. All my . . ." John took in a deep breath and cleared his throat. "The rest . . . the rest of them were dead." He closed his eyes and rubbed hard, hoping to blot out the memory of his friends lying face down, bags over their heads, bloody sand underneath. He could still see the way the cords binding their hands dug into the flesh around their wrists.

Teyla's grip on his other hand tightened and he dropped his arm, looking at the concerned faces of his friends. He'd started this. Now he needed to finish it. "They grabbed us and marched us to the adjacent village, yelling the whole time. I caught bits and pieces, something about making an example and power and greater good. What must have been most of the village came out while they ranted and raved and kicked us around for show. I could see the people weren't happy. I'm guessing the Afghan with me was from there because there was a pretty big reaction every time they punched him. Me, not so much. When they had a big enough audience, the bags went back on and we were knocked down to our knees again. By this time I just wanted them to hurry up and get it over with."

"Oh, God," Rodney muttered in a strangled whisper.

"The next thing I knew, there was chaos. Lots of shouting and gunfire. I got knocked over. I think they rebel holding me down must have been shot, because I could feel something big across my legs, kind of pinning me down. With that stupid bag on my head and my hands tied behind my back, I couldn't move or see anything. Somewhere in there I took a stray bullet in the shoulder. Things got a little fuzzy after that. I remember fading in and out, some native guy looking down at me talking to me, and then there was a woman once or twice. I remember feeling like I was moving, one of those painful, thrown around in the back of a wagon type movements. The next time I was really coherent, I was in a field hospital."

"You don't know what happened?" asked Ronon.

"Just what the doctors told me. They said a couple of Afghans brought me to one of the units close to the fighting. They only understood a little of what they said, but it was something about not letting the rebels control them any more. They said I had not wronged them. As near as we could figure, they village was being bullied by the rebels and when they went to kill one of their own in front of them, they decided they'd had enough. A lot of the people who lived there just wanted to live their life and stay out of the fighting. Unfortunately, the rebels weren't willing to let them do that. In their eyes, you either support them or you're the enemy."

"Wow, that was lucky for you," said Rodney, almost looking relieved.

"That's the problem," John said harshly. "I got lucky. I didn't do anything to save myself. There was no reason why I survived and the others didn't. I just happened to be the last one to be killed. They just happened to decide to make an example out of us. The villagers just happened to pick then to revolt. I'm alive and there's no valid reason why. Some of those guys had families, children. It should have been one of them."

"Do not say that," Teyla scolded. "It is like when the Wraith come. Some are fortunate and escape, some are not. Many that are killed are wives and husbands, fathers and mothers. Who is to say which one should or should not survive? We should all embrace life and do the most good we can with it. As you have. Perhaps you survived so you could come to this galaxy and do great good in the battle with the Wraith. Perhaps your survival is the key to many thousands surviving."

John just looked down at his lap. "I know what you're saying and I appreciate it, Teyla. It's just . . . it's not as easy as that."

"Survivor's guilt," said Rodney.

"I got that, Rodney. The shrinks they made me see pointed that out first thing. Like I said, knowing it and having it make a difference are two different things. I just can't quit thinking about all the other ways that could have played out. It just . . . it freaks me out. It freaked me out then and it probably always will."

"It's something that never sits well with you, no matter how many times you analyze it or how much you think about it," said Ronon. John knew from the little Ronon had said that he'd survived many things he probably shouldn't have and had done so when others hadn't. If anyone knew what John was feeling, it was probably Ronon. "It's just something you find a way to live with."

"Yeah," John said in agreement. "I just have to find that place again."

"You will," said Teyla with confidence and a knowing smile.

"What is going on here?" Jennifer Keller marched through the door to stand in front of John with her arms crossed. "I understand you sweet-talked Katie into letting you out here."

Looking up at the doctor, John just shrugged one shoulder. "I needed to get out of there for a few minutes."

"He couldn't breathe," offered Ronon. "We wrapped him in blankets so he wouldn't get cold."

"I can see that," Keller said, a smile beginning to break through. She placed one hand on his forehead. "I think your fever is down a bit, but let's get you back inside. You aren't over this by a long shot, Colonel."

John just nodded, a tired lethargy beginning to take hold of his body. "I know. I just needed some air." He was dead tired and getting sleepy again, but a lot of the tension from before seemed to have evaporated. It had felt strange to share one of the worst experiences of his life, but now that he had, it was like some sort of burden had been lifted. He'd been afraid of his team seeing that much of him and now he wasn't sure why. They were as they always were, supporting and trusting. He leaned his head back against the pillow as Keller pushed the wheelchair, asleep by the time they reached the infirmary.

oOo

"Okay, Colonel, I guess you're free to go. No sign of the fever returning and your lungs are almost clear," announced Keller, draping the stethoscope around her neck. "You still need to get plenty of rest the next few days. It's going to take a little while for your body to completely recover."

John sighed. "I know the drill. I'm going straight to my quarters and Rodney promised to bring lunch in so we could play a round of chess."

"That sounds like a good plan. If I hear any rumors of you sparring or running or being seen in your office the next couple of days, you're butt is mine. And remember to finish taking your antibiotics, and I mean all of it."

"Got it," John said dutifully. "So, uh . . . "

Keller waved one had at the door. "Yes, go."

"Thanks, Doc," John said playfully as he hopped off the bed and headed out the door. He'd already changed into the clothes Rodney had dropped by earlier. Three steps out of the door, Teyla came up beside him.

"John, I was just on my way to see if you had been released yet. You are looking well."

"Feel pretty good, too. Mostly just kind of washed out and tired, but that will pass."

"Yes, it will, with rest."

Snorting, John grinned as he glanced at Teyla. "Doc got you on her payroll."

Teyla looked slightly offended. "No, of course not. I am simply pointing out what to most people would be obvious."

"I take it I'm not most people," John said.

"No, you are not. Most of the time, that is a good thing. But sometimes for you, it is not. Please take care of yourself, John. We worry about you."

Embarrassed, John rubbed one hand across his face. "I wish you wouldn't. I can take care of myself just fine. Okay, most of the time."

The stopped as they reached his door and Teyla turned to face him, placing one hand on his forearm. "We care about you and that is why we worry. Allow us that. I know that sometimes you also worry about each of us."

Looking at his feet, John shrugged. "Yeah, okay, you're right. I'm just . . . it's just that it's really hard for me to . . . well, you know. I'm pretty sure we've had this discussion a couple of times."

A large grin broke out across her face. "Yes, indeed we have."

"Hey, you wanna come in? I think Rodney's bringing food pretty soon."

Teyla shook her head. "No, one thing I was coming to tell you is that I am going to visit Telenia today. I am looking forward to the chance to visit with her and find out how she has been these many years."

"That's nice," John said. "Be sure and tell her I planted one of those explosives for her."

Grinning, Teyla nodded. "I will."

"Uh, actually I'm serious. I really did plant one for her." Shifting his feet, John wasn't sure whether to be embarrassed or not.

"Somehow, I am not surprised. I will tell her. I should only be gone a few hours and I will come check on you when I return."

"You don't have to do that, you know," John said.

"I know," said Teyla, bowing her head. John leaned forward to touch foreheads with her.

"Thanks," he whispered.

"You are welcome," she whispered back.

He watched her leave a few seconds later and then entered his quarters. Propping up against his pillows, he settled in to read until Rodney came. Twenty minutes later, he was dozing when the physicist entered with their lunch. John jerked awake almost instantly.

"What?" he said, sitting up and knocking the book in his lap into the floor.

"Doing some heavy reading, I see," said Rodney with a smirk as he set two trays on the table.

Yawning, John ignored him as he twisted to hang his legs off the bed. He leaned over and picked up the book, setting it on his nightstand. "They have anything good?"

"Depends on how picky you are. Some kind of beef-like meat in salty gravy and fake mashed potatoes. They do have the casserole of that squash-like vegetable we get from M5R-633."

"Dessert?" asked John as he walked over to the table.

"Just oatmeal cookies."

John sat down at the table and broke off a bit of cookie. "I like oatmeal cookies."

"Eat your lunch before you eat dessert or I'll tell Jennifer on you."

"Spoilsport," John returned.

"Just eat. How are the n . . . uh, are you sleeping any better?"

John paused a moment, his fork stilling for just a second before continuing its descent into the potatoes. "Getting better."

"Oh. Really? Or are you just saying that?" Rodney made a point of playing with his food and not looking at John.

"I'm getting there. It just may take a little while," said John. He still woke up nightly, the smells, tastes, and images of that day in Afghanistan mixing in with those of finding Baker's team to almost choke him. But he'd only woken twice last night and had managed to get some sleep in between, so it really was getting better. "I got the letters to the families of Baker's team written."

Rodney swallowed and sat still a moment. "I'll bet that was hard," he said softly.

"Yeah," John agreed in a strained whisper. "Hard." He shook his head and looked up at his friend. "Teyla went back to that market to visit her friend. At least something good came of this whole fiasco."

Smiling, Rodney gave a short nod. "Leave it to Teyla to make something positive happen."

"She's good at that," John agreed. "Thanks for agreeing to bring me food for a day or two. I think that's one reason Keller let me go. And I really needed to get out of there. Too confining and too many people. You can never be alone."

"I know, it's like being on public display in there," lamented Rodney. "And what's with telling you to get lots of rest and then waking you up every couple of hours to check on you or take your blood pressure or something? It's a wonder we don't check out of there more exhausted than when we went in."

John had to laugh at that. Rodney had a good point. They ate in silence for a few moments before Rodney swallowed and looked at him. "So . . . how are you doing with . . . you know . . . dealing with stuff? Are you going to be okay?"

He opened his mouth to say he was fine and then stopped. It was so automatic. Although he still saw flashes of dead bodies and blood-splattered ground, it wasn't every time he blinked any more. He could still smell the musty bag and dust-filled air and blood, but it wasn't every waking minute. Occasionally he could even feel the rough fabric of the bag scratching his cheek or the drawstring pulling tight against his neck, but a quick swipe of his hand made the phantom touches disappear.

"It's getting better. Not there yet, but it will come. Like Ronon said, you just learn to live with certain things and this is definitely one of them."

Rodney shifted uncomfortably in his chair before bringing his eyes up to meet those of John. "You know that . . . uh, well, we're here for you if you . . . well, you know."

A crooked smile spread across John's face. "Yeah, I know." He found it somehow comforting that Rodney was an inept at these things as he was. It was going to be a long time before the deaths of Baker's team or his memories of a horror long past were put safely behind him. But at least he had help this time. He had a feeling that friends were going to be the difference between being able to move on and being stuck in a nightmare forever. And who would have guessed it took moving several light years away to another galaxy to provide those friends.

THE END


End file.
